


Snowflakes (that were painted green)

by Hooda



Series: Snowflakes [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Development, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hooda/pseuds/Hooda
Summary: They were learning that they liked to start slow, just with their hands, before reaching across the space between them for more. In the dull hours of rest they are given, they learn to coexist.And when he feels her hand search out his own under the cover of the blankets, he lets her fingers slip through the spaces between his own. It was still foreign, the act of touching someone, but they were learning._______Cassian likes to find Jyn commandeering his bed.





	Snowflakes (that were painted green)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look... this turned into a series... :D

_**Memorization** _

 

_______

 

He continuously finds her in his bed.

It was no surprise, not after shitty nights alone in her own room. Jyn was never one to complain about having a roof over her head and a space to call her own. But she was not about to waste the valuably small time she was given to work in close quarters with Cassian by spending nights separate from him.

She would rather sleep alone in Cassian’s bed than spend time in an unfamiliar room that was supposed to be her own. Her room was plain and cold. It was perfunctory and small, which she appreciated.

But it was cold and obsolete.

Cassian never minds whether she falls asleep under his worn old blankets or on pilot’s seat. (They were mildly uncomfortable, he personally knew, but kept the person in the seat closest to the action.)

Seeing Jyn curled careful and calm under his blankets will never cease to bring a warmth to his mind. He could not do very much for her. But he liked to occasionally cook a few meals that did not include nutrient paste, or smooth down the bandages she often sported after missions so they would not catch on the fabric of her clothes.

Bodhi had begun to pay attention to Jyn’s occasional disappearances. He would walk the length of the ship with a sense of mild curiosity, often poking a foot behind empty crates to discern if Jyn fell asleep behind one again.

Cassian knew that the nervous pilot counted who went on break and where they sometimes sulked off to for a few hours of rest.

The only reason Bodhi had not found out about Jyn’s penchant for disappearing under Cassian’s blankets was because he dared not enter anyone’s private room without permission from its owner.

Cassian was thankful Chirrut decided to distract Bodhi when his own break finally arose. He avoided the pilot’s eyes as he carefully slipped through the door to his room, leaving the younger man behind to fend for himself against the onslaught of diddling conversation the older monk threw at him.

Jyn was wearing one of his thermal shirt again. The first time Cassian had seen her in it, he had been frozen in place. Not because she had taken it without permission, but because he quietly liked the sight of the thick shirt on her.

She had very little personal possessions. The simple act of providing a sleep shirt for Jyn was enough to bring back the warmth in his body.

It also came with the deliberate realization that they were beginning _something_ between them. A form of trust, Jyn called it once. Something to hold onto to fight for, Cassian had called it.

And when he feels her hand search out his own under the cover of the blankets, he lets her fingers slip through the spaces between his own. It was still foreign, the act of touching someone, but they were learning.

They were learning that they liked to start slow, just with their hands, before reaching across the space between them for more. In the dull hours of rest they are given, they learn to coexist.

He presses his bottom lip and chin to her temple, her hair there softer than he ever could have imagined. It smelled like him, of old blaster grease and the fading smell of spices.

Jyn welcomed him not by using words, but by nestling closer. Her arm would slink, under the blankets, across his waist.

“You’re warm,” Cassian breathed against her hair. His eyes were lulling shut with every beat that passed between them.

He could feel the cunning smile Jyn loved to express so much against the skin of neck. It was one of the best feelings in all of his life.

“Go to sleep, Cassian,” Jyn murmured heavily against his skin.

He does. He closes his eyes because he trusts her to be there and he breathes to the tempo of her own breaths.

And an hour later, when Jyn knows her time is up and she must return to work, she despises having to get up. The cot Cassian’s room provided may have been one of the smallest she had ever slept on, but it was his. It was _theirs_.

It was warmer than any memory of home she could think of and was one of the only places she ever wanted to return to, simply because it smelled of Cassian. It was worn in and old, but it was theirs.

He always was too far asleep to feel her fingers run through the edges of his thick hair before she left the room. Through the spaces between her fingers, Jyn could see the glint of little greying strands peeking out.

And later, she was always careful to shut the door as softly as he did when walking in to join her.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated - whether neg or pos!


End file.
